


Death/Life

by MinP1072



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lizzington - Freeform, Missteps, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-07-15 22:07:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7240330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MinP1072/pseuds/MinP1072
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things don't always go as planned — especially when the plan is hastily conceived and even more hastily executed. When things don't go the way they were supposed to, he might be the only one who can bring her back.</p><p>A little moody, a little angsty, a little dreamy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Raymond: Haze

He sends them away — everyone, even Dembe — and it’s good, it’s for the best. He’s an empty shell, with nothing inside but an endless well of terrifyingly aching loss and horror and sadness. He tries desperately to quiet his head and heart with the heavy fog of black nocturnes.

 _There’s a crushing silence where love’s a disease  
__Like a fever it grips me; Like a lover it holds_  

For a while, it works; he loses himself in dreams of two precious idols and sunshiney days. Happiness surrounds him, brushes up against him in the touch of her hand, the flutter of her dress, the magic of innocent laughter.

But somehow, even at the height of his stupor, the shadows cling to him, demanding; keep him drifting outside their bright circle, alone.

 _Scared of getting older; Scared of dying alone  
__I’m in a blue haze._  

Deprived of even the slight solace of oblivion, he knows what he must do — he has to go back, back to the the beginning so he can try again. The lengthy drive is bothersome only for the way it allows his thoughts to roam free…

If only he could stop seeing her still, pale face; could rid his cheek of the feel of her cold, limp fingers pressed into his skin.

If only he could keep the memory of that last touch forever.

He sits, conflicted, miserable, staring at the water as it laps at the shore, beckoning.

 _I’m carried on the back of a wave of gloom_  
_I’m told I’ll see the shore again soon  
__I’m in a blue haze._  

It doesn’t work. There’s nothing here, no closure, no redemption, no clean ending. Nothing but memories and futility and the tempting tendrils of his own madness. The noise in his head is getting too loud, the pain in his chest too great to bear.

He fully comprehends, now, what it means to die of a broken heart.

So he seeks the very last bastion, one last task, the only place he knows of that holds a torment equal to his own. Not for sympathy, no, gods no, there can be none — just a vague hope that maybe, with a partner to wrestle, his head will quiet, even for just a moment.

Just one moment.

 _I’m living in dark rooms; Playing at God_  
_Staring at blank walls; Pretending I’m not  
__In a blue haze._  

Against the odds, certainly against his own will, he’s dragged into the world again, finds a temporary shape for the tumultuous sea within.

Revenge isn’t quite good enough, but it’s something, something to carry him just a few steps further. He moves through the world like a bolt of lightning, striking where and when he will without particular care for the consequences, the tingle in his cheek driving him without mercy. 

When Dembe tentatively mentions the business and the burning of bridges, he just laughs and assures the younger man that provisions have been made for his and his family’s future. He sorrows, distantly, at the look this puts in the eye of his closest friend, but he has scant room for the living now.

Instead, he just burns, heedless and enraged, powerful and unrestrained, at last, _at last_ , unrestrained. He lets the monster have its day, knowing that when it’s finally done, then he can rest. Then, maybe, just maybe, he’ll see her again.

 _I wanna be your lover; I wanna be your friend_  
_I wish I could tell you I’d last till the end_  
_I’m in a blue haze._  
_I wanna be a preacher; I wanna be a king_  
_And now I know why everything is in  
__A blue haze._  

He pays the woman no heed at first, her small familiar frame has no presence anymore, her words no consequence. But then, she says,

“Aren’t you listening? Please, Raymond, it’s all gone wrong. We need you. _She_ needs you.”

And he no longer knows what to feel, what shape the world is, shifting under his feet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lyrics from "Haze" by Amber Run. Check it out here: https://youtu.be/hL0hwXltDog  
> And do check it out, because it's mag.


	2. Elizabeth: Ghost

It all happened so fast.

The pain, God, the pain; voices yelling, orders flying; Tom, anxious and edgy.

Her emotions felt like silky ribbons, sliding through her hands with no control at all.

And then, tiny fingers, sweet face, big blue eyes, already full of trust.

That’s the confirmation she needs — as much as it hurts, the betrayal that it is, it’s the way to safety, for all of them.

The drugs hit slowly, then gain momentum. At least her last words are of love; her last sensations his hand gripping hers, warm and strong.

_I see you falling_   
_How long to go  
Before you hit the ground_

She floats, alone in nowhere space, not real; she doesn’t feel real.

If she concentrates, there are voices, but they don’t seem to matter enough to try and discern their words. There are brief, fleeting sensations of warmth, touch, on her hands and face.

Is she dreaming? She can’t tell. There should be something tangible…seconds pass, or minutes, or an eternity.

Then, then there is a glint, a flash of light.

She moves toward it, heart pounding — a way back…

Then there’s sunlight, blue sky, salty air; the ocean. And Reddington, Red…Raymond. She softens, watching him stare blindly at the horizon. She says his name, reaching.

But he won’t answer, all his words for someone else, invisible to her. He speaks and moves and acts just like she does, like he is lost in a dream. Why won’t he answer?

_You keep on screaming_   
_Don’t you see me here  
Am I a ghost to you_

The weight of his insensible grief pulls at her, keeps her close. The sight of him weakens her, his drawn and haggard face, his customary spark disappeared, lost.

She could never have imagined this deep well of feeling inside him, for her, at all.

He moves and speaks like a man emptied of purpose, of reason, of love. She cannot reach him; she’s lost here with him, alone.

So she pulls away, hard, harder than almost anything she has ever done. She seeks another, seeks love.

_Now your grip’s too strong  
_ _Can’t catch love with a net or a gun_

And there, like a wish, a thought, a heartbeat — there she is. Small and perfect, quiet and serious, watching. She thinks the baby can see her, the little fists waving as if in greeting, light shining from the tiny face.

Already grown, noticeably different; she hovers, wistful, shaken with longing.

But where is Tom? Why is no one here with her, in this cold and sterile room? She stays, as long as she can, adoring and comforting as she can.

Finally, it fades away — Tom never does appear, but the pull is back, strong and fierce, and she can’t resist it.

She would weep, if she could.

_Why are you phoning_   
_What am I to do  
When you’re miles away_

Frustrated, she screams and rails at his impassive face; receives not a flicker in return. He has become a blank slate, an empty, shuttered house.

Only the set of his shoulders and the vast, lonely pools of his eyes give away his continuing torment.

He stands over her would-be grave; it chills and saddens and makes her afraid, all over again. His face changes, as he stands there, as if the sight of the new earth and the cold stone have given him back a measure of life.

When he finally acts, seeking — what? Vengeance? Revenge? Maybe just any kind of feel at all — she wishes again that he didn’t draw her as he does.

Wishes that she didn’t have to watch the little pieces of him tear free and disappear around her.

_You’re always calling_   
_From the darkest moods  
And we’re both scared_

Then, everything changes.

Then, she’s pulled in his wake as everything he is drives him…to her.

To stand over her own body, herself, silent and alone, waiting and strange.

_Gotta keep faith that your path will change_   
_Gotta keep faith that your love will change_   
_Tomorrow_   
_I’m just out of your range_   
_Tomorrow_   
_All your suffering’s in vain  
Tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lyrics from "Tomorrow" by James. The music doesn't fit as well as the lyrics, but if you want to check it out, you can find it here: https://youtu.be/Jpb2Wt6HJHk


	3. Raymond: Without You

It feels, at first, like the most horrific déjà vu.

The gurney, sterile and cold; her still, lonely body and slack, pale face. The way the blood seethes in his head, drowning out the world.

He can’t quite bring himself to touch her, to even approach her fragile form, terrified that all he would feel would be her absence, still, and he would lose the last thread of sanity left to him.

_I’m reaching out_  
_To touch your voice_  
_But baby  
I’m clutching at straws_

Barely aware of Kate’s worried eyes fixed on him, her nervous words tumbling around him, he makes himself move, at last. He moves, halting and unsure, to stand beside her, over her, staring blindly.

He forces the tremor from his hand as he reaches out to touch her face.

And everything in him breathes deep when warmth meets his fingertips.

He drops, suddenly, heavily, to the chair beside her bed, the relief overwhelming, suffocating. His palm flattens against her cheek, reassuring himself, seeking the spark of connection, seeking life.

The silence seems too much to bear, her vivacity gone, every piece of her so still, so still. He wishes for the woman he knows — even the tight tones of anger and blame that have become normal between them.

Alive, Elizabeth might be; present, she is not.

_Even though_  
_Your words hurt the most_  
_I still want to hear them  
Every day_

“She won’t wake up.”

The frustration of the man calling himself Tom intrudes on his blurry thoughts, and he glances up to meet the defiant, angry gaze.

“So, you gambled and you lost,” he says flatly in return. “But the stakes here were Elizabeth’s _life_.” Rage surges through him then, threatens to overtake him for a hazy moment. His fingers curl into her skin. “How could you be so _reckless?_ ”

“Us?” Tom splutters defensively. “ _You_ drove us to this extreme. _You_ turned her life inside out, made her miserable, put her in danger again and again. _You_ _took everything—_ ”

“Enough,” he interjects, sharp enough to be final, laden with a disbelieving weariness. “Get out. Don’t argue, just…go. Go and be with your daughter, and stay away from me.”

Tom moves forward, anger boiling, but halts abruptly when he sees the look on Reddington’s face. The look of a man with nothing left to hang on to; with nothing left to lose. He turns and leaves without another word, Kate trailing unhappily after him.

Left alone, Red droops a little, warring emotions tugging at him, deconstructing him, piece by piece.

He takes her hand, relieved all over again to feel the steady pulse of life within, and presses it gently to his own cheek.

“Elizabeth,” he says softly. “Where are you?”

_For I’m so scared of losing you_  
_And I don’t know_  
_What I can do  
About it_

Being invisible — spirit, ghost, ephemeral — is one thing. Looking down at her own still and silent body is another. The strangeness of it nags at her, pervades her being unpleasantly, unknown fingers sneaking down her spine.

She shifts her gaze, to distract herself, to try and understand. The curve of his back as he curls over her empty form beckons; it begs for a touch, for comfort, even as his hand clutches hers.

Closer to him, his warmth is enticing, his familiar face so drawn and tired; his very _being_ pulling at her, as it always did, but fiercer than ever, stronger than anything else in her world. Her physical self joins its call to his — but his is stronger, always, as inevitable as the tide.

And yet, the last weeks of fear and dread and hopelessness linger inside her like a bad taste. If only she could trust in the nameless things, could know that safety lay here, at last.

She quivers between, torn, confused, reaching.

_You say let it go_  
_But I can’t let it go_  
_I wanna believe every word  
That you say_

Awareness of her penetrated his fugue in a whisper, a tingle at the back of the neck.

She heard his aching plea, he knows it — she is here, somewhere. He can feel her, now that he reaches for her. The sweetness that is her nature; the hesitancy born of deep-rooted fear.

He can feel her, her soft breath on his neck, stroke of a gentle hand down his spine, comforting through this shared sorrow.

Suddenly, desperate not to lose her again, to make this tenuous feel of her into reality, words come tumbling, pouring out of him.

Words he hardly ever dared to _think_ , let alone speak, words of regret and need and love.

Ragged with days of suffering, his voice coils and twists around her, pulling harder than ever.

“Elizabeth.” Broken and lost, bereft. “Please. We need you back. I…Agnes needs you, needs her mother. I…We’ve all fallen apart, without you, all of us. It’s all just pieces, without you. Everything is dark, without you. Lizzie, sweetheart, come back, come back to us, to _me_. I can’t…” He heaves a shuddering sigh that sounds as if it may break him.

_So tell me how long, love, before you go_  
_And leave me here_  
_On my own  
I know it_

“Please,” he says again, hoping, hoping that the tears he thinks he can see on her face are real.

Trembling, he brings the hand he holds to his lips and kisses her with a fervent tenderness.

“I just…I love you so, Elizabeth. Come back to me…”

_I don’t wanna know who I am without you_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lyrics from "Agape" by Bear's Den. Check it out here:  
> https://youtu.be/q1MmYVcDyMs


	4. Elizabeth & Raymond: Tidal

Everything has gone dark, dark and so _heavy_. She panics briefly, struggling to breathe through her suddenly weighted chest. It is the voice that calms her, that brings her back to herself enough to realize that she is…back to herself.

The voice, so familiar, deep and rich, murmuring broken words of pleading, of desperation, of…love.

_Oh, Red,_ she thinks, _Raymond_ , full of longing and sadness. Tears slide down her cheeks, silent and unbidden.

_I want you_  
_Yeah I want you_  
_And nothing comes close  
To the way that I need you_

It is need that brings her out — the need to see, to feel, to speak, to use this physical form.

But even opening her eyes is a struggle that feels monumental, like more than she can manage. The light blinds at first, even through the thin slits she manages; as her vision adjusts and clears, the first thing she sees is his face, tired and worn, anguished and hopeful together.

“You,” she manages to say, raspy and hoarse. Her last words still linger in her mouth, tumbling out to be her first. “Raymond, I do love you.”

He smiles at her, like a beam of light.

“Lizzie,” he breathes, and his hand squeezes hers tightly, so tightly. “You’re awake. You’re here.”

“Red,” she says, and her voice sounds far away and strange. “Raymond — Agnes…”

“Of course,” he says briskly, drawing himself together in that particular way he has. “Agnes is safe, I promise you — Tom is with her now. I’ll make a call, have them come, shall I?”

He stands, gently placing her hand back on the bed beside her, on the phone issuing terse instructions within a moment.

_Red,_ she thinks again, _I wish…_

_I wish I can_  
_Feel your skin_  
_And I want you  
From somewhere within_

He is beside her again almost before she has time to think of what she wishes for.

“There, now,” he says, taking her hand again naturally, like it belonged. “They’ll be here soon, your family.”

There is a slightly odd inflection behind his words, one she would not have noticed before this voyage, before she had been with him, unknown and unseen.

_You’re mine, too,_ she wants to say, _you belong here with me_ , but she cannot, is without the right words even now. Instead, she curls her fingers around his hand with as much pressure as she can muster.

“Thank you,” she says, instead of the words she wants, instead of the truths and feelings that clamour within. “I need to see her safe, my little girl.”

“Of course you do,” he says warmly. “She’s just beautiful, Lizzie — she looks just like her mother.”

She tries to laugh, but cannot; lets her eyes slip closed.

“Thank you,” she says again, with no other words to be found.

_It feels like there’s oceans_  
_Between me and you once again_  
_We hide our emotions  
Under the surface and try to pretend_

It is almost a relief when the others return, to have to step back, to breathe, to readjust to the world with her back in it, back as suddenly as she had disappeared.

Even in the pale gauntness of her long sleep, her face at the sight of her child is breathtaking. And the three of them together…a family, glowing with happiness.

He closes his eyes briefly, to put himself back together, to button his weakness back up and safely away.

_I want you_  
_And I always will_  
_I wish I was worth  
But I know what you deserve_

Her presence beside him has a tentative quality that he doesn’t expect from her, but is still unmistakeable.

“Later, Kate,” he says quietly, not looking down, not moving at all. “I don’t have it in me to deal with you right now.”

A quick intake of breath, then empty air is beside him again.

And he watches, his world made simultaneously right and wrong again, and another puts his arm around her and kisses her happy face.

She is speaking now, quietly, rapidly, Tom leaning in close to listen, his face still and sober, expression darkening.

_And what now,_ he wonders. _What do we do now?_

He scrubs his face with his hands, aching with love and pain, lost and found.

_You know I’d rather drown_  
_Than to go on without you  
But you’re pulling me down_

Then, suddenly, with a clatter of a chair and the slam of a door, Tom is gone, gone, and she has a hand stretched out to him.

Like a dream, like swimming through air, he makes his way back to her side, taking her hand again without thought.

“Raymond,” she says — and oh, his name in her mouth is lovely. “Just look at her.”

He is able to smile at that, and agree wholeheartedly.

“She’s perfect, sweetheart. Just…perfect.”

She glances up at him through lowered lashes, and his heart beats painfully.

She gathers it now — the confidence born of watching him grieve and love; the strength that has always been hers to wield; the bravery that comes with motherhood — she gathers it all to take the last leap.

“Am I, Raymond?” she asks softly. “Your sweetheart?”

His body, his breath, even time itself seem to stop, to freeze, to crystallize in a moment of perfect stillness.

“I’ve been with you,” she says, watching Agnes’ sleeping face. “I couldn’t seem to leave you, Red. I heard all the things you said, then, today, to me. And I love you, too. With everything I have. And I want to be yours, the way you are mine.”

Her eyes finally meet his, deep blue wells of emotion, and his breath finally releases in a rush.

“Oh, Lizzie,” he says brokenly, healed, whole. “Lizzie mine.”

_I want you_  
_I want you  
And I always will_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lyrics from "Oceans" by Seafret. Check it out here: https://youtu.be/aqsL0QQaSP4


	5. Elizabeth & Raymond: Never Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just one more little snippet, like an epilogue, because I wanted some more fluff. For reasons.

It takes her some time to feel _right_ again — the drug cocktail had taken a toll on her system, and her mind is beset by fears. Fear that she will wake up and Agnes will be gone; that Red will be gone; that _she_ will be gone.

He has done whatever possible to alleviate these fears, to make her comfortable and give her the time she needs to heal. He secreted the three of them away in a snug cabin in the woods, with only Dembe coming and going between them and the outside world. He acquired and set up a cozy co-sleeper for Agnes, so that she was never out of arm’s reach. And he himself never seems to leave them, except to make meals, although he is always clean and neat.

Whenever she awakes from her all-too-frequent sleep, he’s there, holding her hand, or feeding the baby, or, very rarely, asleep in the easy chair he has parked beside her bed. Her half-death had taught her to love him — now that love is growing in leaps and bounds, until it feels too big for her body, too big to speak, too big for any one person to contain.

_My love is never ending  
_ _Like a sea without a shore_

He cares for her with the dedication to a task that he has learned over the years, easing her back into life, watching her heal day by day. He had learned a terrible lesson with her loss, and prepares now to give up his long-treasured ghosts without a qualm.

With Dembe as his man, he quietly dismantles his business, piece by sordid piece. He puts the Cabal and its machinations aside as the inevitable evil of the world, and focuses on the two people now in his life who need him. Who need him present and healthy and whole.

He watches Agnes grow with a tenderness and pride he had thought long lost to him. And when Lizzie is up and about again, talking and laughing, with a light in her eyes, he feels a sense of accomplishment that borders on ridiculous.

His love for them exceeds all his bonds, fills their small sanctuary, makes life taste good again.

_I’m a fool guilty of old crimes  
_ _But you are the one I adore_

She surprises him in the kitchen one day, bringing in a bottle after tucking Agnes up for her nap. She appears in front of him quietly, a wistful smile on her lips and a rosy flush on her cheeks.

She is so beautiful, it never fails to make him catch a breath.

“Red,” she says softly, hesitation written in her body, woven through her voice. “Are you…I mean, are we…” She trails off, flushing more deeply, and drops her eyes.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asks, concerned — things have been easy between them since she woke. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh no,” she hastens, putting a hand lightly on his chest. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just…I’ve been better for a while now.”

He smiles at her, his eyes crinkling. “You have, and nothing could make me happier. Agnes seems to be thriving here too, wouldn’t you agree?”

“She is,” Liz agrees, “she’s wonderful, and she loves you. I…I love you. Do you still…I hope you don’t regret…”

“Lizzie,” he interrupts, the pieces falling into place. He cups her cheek in his hand, loving her, loving her. “Never. This life with the two of you, it’s more than I could have ever hoped for. I love you so much.”

Her face changes as he speaks, lights with love and happiness, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“Well, then, Red,” she says, shifting a little closer so the warmth of her body seeps into his. “Are you ever going to kiss me?”

He laughs, joy and love filling the room around them.

“If you insist,” he says cheekily, with a lift of his eyebrow.

But for all his insouciance, he needs a moment, a moment to make sure this is real. He lets his thumb stroke her cheek, grazing her lips; watches them part slightly and her eyelashes flutter. He leans in, measuring the moment, letting their soft, quick breaths mingle together.

He kisses her, just a brush of lips at first, a gentle testing. Her mouth is soft and pliant, and she sighs a little and wraps her arms around his neck. Then they fall into each other, their mouths moving sweetly together, love palpable and fierce.

For the rest of their life together, he’ll remember this moment.

_When the world has emptied_  
 _And the planet is covered in dust_  
 _I will stand beneath the silver moon rising  
Waiting to resurrect our love_  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *lyrics from "Woman" by City & Colour. Check it out here: https://youtu.be/DOXVdDULHPc


End file.
